Flashbacks
by Airstrike
Summary: Firestorm and Syndrome have always been friends... but can friendship alone keep one of them off of deaths door? Oneshot fic. All OCs! Reviews welcome!


__

"Wakey wakey Syndrome"

_A grey sparkling squeaked, curling up tighter in his protective ball. He whined, shutting his optic lids a little more so the light penetrating the room couldn't hit them._

_"Nuuuuu... don't wanna get up yet Storm..."_

_"Come on now Drome... Its up time"_

_"Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..."_

_"Alright then... you leave me no choice..."_

_The red mech smiled, tickling the smaller with his spare hand. Syndrome yelped, then slowly uncurled as he laughed and spazzed around uncontrollably on the large berth. Firestorm laughed, watching the youngers reaction as his small green optics onlined. He sat up, giggling and smiling as he took the cube of low grade Storm handed him. Syndrome sipped his cube as Firestorm watched on. Syndrome tilted his head curiously as the red mech shivered a little, shuttering his optics before looking back up and forcing a smile. Putting his cube down, Syndrome crawled over to the edge of the berth._

_"Are you ok Storm?"_

_Firestorm gulped, letting out a shaky sigh "Yeah... I'm fine Syndrome"_

_But the sparkling wasn't convinced. Sitting up on his knees, the grey child put a hand on the olders forehead. He was cold, not a usual thing with him. Syndrome was used to feeling the warmth radiating off of him, but right now he couldn't feel any heat at all from the red mechs body._

_"You're cold..."_

_"I'm just feeling a little under the weather Drome... nothing to worry about"_

_"But you're never cold... a-and you don't look very well" Syndrome mentally cursed himself for making such a crude comment. He cringed slightly._

_"N-no offence"_

_Firestorm just smiled, pushing himself from his chair and standing up. He wobbled, his vision falling blurry for a few seconds. Syndrome stood up on his berth, his optics clouded with worry._

_"You should rest Storm... I-I can look after myself for a few cycles..."_

_"No no... I can't leave you on your own. That would be rude..."_

_"But you can hardly stand! I-I don't mind! You gotta rest or you could get seriously sick... Y-you've been helping me s-so I wanna return the favour..."_

_Firestorm sighed, looking down at the youngling. He couldn't resist the look in his optics. It was so full of worry... so full of innocence..._

_"Perhaps I could rest for a few breems..."_

_The grey youngling smiled, jumping off the berth and walking over with the older mech to his own. Firestorm sighed, laying down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't low on energy, nor did he feel like recharging, but Syndrome was worried about him. It sort of felt embarrassing having a sparkling care for him, but until he was at full health and ready to be returned to his parents, Syndrome was a member of the household. He kept telling him that, but he never seemed to listen..._

* * *

"You remember that?"

"Y-yeah..."

Firestorm sighed, putting a gentle hand on his dieing comrades shoulder. Syndrome coughed, shifting his hand over to the piece of debris embedded in his chest plate. It was wedged right in, touching his spark. His right optic was smashed completely along with the glass on his downward doorwings. He could safely say that this wasn't one if his finest moments. Fire burned around them as they waited for rescue. Firestorm had his own set of wounds, gashes and slashes covering his frame. A large slice sat through his Freelancer insignia which he had obviously forced shut using whatever he had nearby at the time. His upper leg was black, a trait from being too close to an explosion.

"Don't touch it Drome you'll make it worse"

"T-This... is embarrassing..."

"What is?"

Syndrome wheezed, his working optic focusing on the damaged red mech. It was getting harder and harder for him to stay awake with the sharp metal digging into his spark, but he wasn't about to give up. The debris was squashing his circuitry together, making it hard to breathe as well as move. His control circuitry was completely shot, all of it sparking from the open damaged panel.

"I-I was mea-nt to be... rescuing you..."

"But you are rescuing me Drome! If it wasn't for you, it would be me laying there with the metal in the chest!"

"B-but..." The grey mech wasn't able to finish his sentence before he trailed off back into a set of choking coughs. Firestorm sighed, shifting as one of the small fires nearby attempted to burn him.

"Just hang on Drome Skartplugs on his way with the others. Do you wanna continue the story or do you want me to?"

Syndrome swallowed the energon embedded in his throat.

"Y-you..."

"Alright then."

* * *

_"You need anything else Storm?"_

_"No thanks Syndrome. I'm fine"_

_"Ok!"_

_The grey sparkling smiled widely and giggled, running out of the room to return to his datapad Firestorm had provided him with. It was to help him learn Cybertronion seeing as he wasn't able to go to school. The red mech shivered, bringing the cube of energon Syndrome had brought him to his lips, swallowing the mixture hard to make sure it stayed down. It wasn't natural for him to fall ill. Infact, he had never felt ill before! Firestorm jerked slightly, something inside his circuitry backfiring. He had to see a medic, and quick._

_"S-Syndrome?"_

_The grey child poked his head around the door. "Yes?"_

_"I erm... might need to pop out later..."_

_"Why?"_

_"Just a little business..."_

_Syndrome walked further into the room, still holding his small datapad_

_"But you're not well..."_

_The red mech jerked again, the same circuitry backfiring. He panicked, sitting up._

_"Syndrome I-I need to see a medic..."_

_The sparkling panicked, dropping his datapad and running forwards as Firestorm slowly stood, stumbling backwards and back onto his berth. He gasped, his back creaking as his systems spluttered again, sending a shiver down his spinal circuitry._

_"Storm what's the matter!?"_

_"S-something's wrong... A-and I don't know what..."_

_"I'll get you a medic! Just stay here!"_

_"N-no it's ok I can go! I can't expect you to go..."_

_"It's no trouble Storm! Just stay put I-I won't be long!"_

_And then he was gone. Syndrome dashed back out the door, morphing his body colour to red as he ran for the exit. He reached the door but hesitated, double thinking the situation before he allowed the door to open. What if some of the passers by recognised him? What if the medics refused him because they knew he was a street mech? What if... A pained squeak from Firestorms living space perked him up, snapping the sparkling into focus as he bolted out the door in the direction of the closest medical facility._

* * *

"Syndrome? Firestorm? Where are you guys?"

Firestorm turned, hearing voices nearby. He stood slowly, walking over to a pile of rubble that was blocking the way out. Syndrome gasped, no longer feeling his friends presence nearby. His only working optic had given out on him, rendering him blind. His intakes hitched as he attempted to move, some rubble above him shifting and falling onto his helm.

"S-Storm..."

Firestorm turned.

"I'm still here Syndrome... Just hang on a little longer alright?"

He turned back to where he'd heard the voices, barely catching a glimpse of green as three bots walked by.

"Over here Skarts! Other side of the rubble!"

The figures stopped, one of them moving closer towards the wall of scrap.

"Storm? How are you two holding up?"

"It's not good Skartplug! Syndrome's just hanging on and I'm not 100 myself"

"Is he conscious?"

"Barely yeah"

"Just keep him talking Storm! We'll be there soon! Napalm, Cannonball! Get this wall down and fast!"

Firestorm nodded, walking back over to the downed saboteur. He took the mechs hand, rubbing his thumb over the top in reassurance. The grey mech whimpered, pained tears falling from his offline optics as he continued to struggle for breath.

"S-Storm... I-I can't..."

"You can Syndrome! You are not giving up on me..."

"I-it's... hard... I-I can't breathe... properly..."

"I know... but please don't give up... Just stay with me a little bit longer Skartplug's coming!"

"I-I'll t-try... S-Storm..."

"It's your turn with the story..."

"O-ok..." Syndrome coughed, swallowing some more energon in his throat before continuing.

* * *

_The young red sparkling stopped to catch his breath as he ran through the streets of Rapture towards a tall building. It towered above the rest of the living quarters, easily being seen over the tops for miles. Syndrome gritted his teeth as he set off again, dodging between mechs and femmes of all shapes and sizes as he came closer and closer. A loose paving stone caused him to stumble, his weak armour scraping against the ground._

_"Are you alright little one?" A nearby femme helped the sparkling back up. Syndrome nodded, catching his breath as he slowly wobbled to his feet._

_"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"_

_Syndrome panted, still holding onto the femmes hand to stay upright._

_"M-my carer... he's... sick... n-need to... get him... a-a medic"_

_"Oh my! Well come on, I'll help you"_

_The sparkling squeaked as the femme picked him up, running towards the medical facility faster than Syndrome could at full pelt. Mechs and femmes alike moved out of the way, none of them paying attention to the sparkling at all seeing as he looked healthier than he used to. Crossing a bridge, the femmbot stopped momentarily, checking her direction before setting off again. Reaching the double doors to the medical facility, the femme placed the sparkling down, smiling as he thanked her._

_"Go on. Go get a medic"_

_"Thank you ma'am"_

_The femme smiled "No problem hun. Now shift"_

* * *

"Drome?! Syndrome stay awake!"

The grey saboteur's breathing shortened. He squeaked as the rubble above him shifted, placing more weight onto the sharp piece of wall sticking out of his chestplate. Syndrome gritted his teeth, his weak hands clawing at the metal in an attempt to loosen the grip it held. Firestorm's arm automatically came up to protect his faceplates as the wall of debris behind him exploded, a green mech standing in the newly created doorway, smirking.

"Oh how I love explosives..."

A dark grey mech dashed into the new area, heading straight for the two wounded mechs. He bent down, unspacing several tools as another joined the green, congratulating him on his 'door making skills'.

"Syndrome? Drome can you hear me? It's Skartplug. Listen I'm gonna try and remove some of this rubble but you gotta stay with me! Do you understand? Don't give up ok?"

Syndrome nodded weakly, his hand gripping his friend's loosely. Firestorm returned the comforting squeeze. Skartplug turned to the two standing bulky mechs standing around, nodding to them as they carefully started to shift the rubble. He then turned to the damaged red mech beside him.

"Keep talking to him..."

The red mech nodded, continuing his story from where he could.

* * *

_The red mech shivered, curling up to try and keep in the last of his warmth. His breathing quickened as he felt his chestplates tighten under the strain. He needed a medic, and quick. Firestorm shut his optics tightly, a pained squeak escaping his vocaliser as his intakes shortened. Everything was slipping away. Darkness was swallowing up the room around him. He was dieing and there was nothing he could do about it. He started hearing things, voices, some welling him into the pit of blackness, some telling him to not give up. Several voices encouraging him made the red mech smile. He knew those voices all too well. Some more added to the mix, but there weren't saying anything in particular. Infact, they didn't even sound like they were in his mind..._

_"I-in there!"_

_"Alright! Stay out here ok?"_

_"O-ok..."_

_The door to the room burst open, a white and blue mech entering the room. He immediately ran to the berth, taking several tools out of his subspace as he assessed the situation. Firestorm gasped as he felt a piece of his armour be removed, the cold metal of a syringe entering. A programme entered his systems, lulling him not into the darkness around him, but into a deep recharge. Having no strength left to fight, the red mech just relaxed, the programme immediately taking hold..._

* * *

"Syndrome stay awake! Come on you got too much to live for to die now!"

Syndrome twitched as Skartplug worked, slowly edging the piece of metal from his chestplate. Nearby, Firestorm stood with the blue and green mechs, desperately trying to take his mind off the semi-operation happening behind him. Cannonball smiled re-assuringly, tapping the red mech on the back.

"He'll be fine Storm! Skartplug's the best medic around besides Ratchet himself!"

Firestorm sighed "I-I know... But there's so much damage..."

"Hey" Napalm crossed his arms over his chestplate "Syndrome's a fighter. He's here because he came for you. Not because he was ordered to, because he wanted to. So stop acting all emo and making his rescue effort sound in vain"

"I'm sorry... It's just-"

"Firestorm! Get over here!"

Firestorm turned, walking back over to the medic. Skartplug shifted, allowing him to sit down next to the grey mech as he continued to work.

"He's asking for you"

"Drome?"

"S-Storm..." Syndrome smiled weakly "S-stop talk-ing bout me..."

Firestorm laughed slightly, gently grabbing his friends hand. The grey mechs only working optic dimly onlined, his neck shifting to look at the damaged red mech beside him.

"Sh-Shadowcats going to be wondering... w-where I a-m..."

"You supposed to be meeting her today then?"

Syndrome nodded, wincing as Skartplug edged the metal out further, shouting back at Napalm and Cannonball to hold it still as he worked on keeping the saboteurs spark lit.

"I'll radio her when we get you back to base and tell her what's happened"

"Y-you didn't f... finish..."

"Finish?"

"T-the... story..."

"Oh... Alright I'll finish it, but you gotta promise me you'll stay alive for the end"

"P-pr... promise..."

"Ok then..."

* * *

_"Storm? He's waking up!"_

_Firestorm gasped, his plating sore. The room around him was spinning. Two figures stood, towering above him, their faces blurred. He forced his optics to focus on them. A red sparkling blinked, its green optics clouded with worry. Another figure stood above him, picking up the sparkling. Their colours slurred together, causing Firestorm to squint. The larger blur lent forward._

_"Can you hear me Firestorm?"_

_It took a few seconds for the red mech to process what he'd been asked before he could reply. All the while the sparkling looked on, it's optics never leaving Firestorm's lifeless grey ones._

_"Yeah... I-I can hear you..."_

_"How are you feeling?"_

_"Sore..."_

_"That'll soon clear up." The figure smiled, putting the sparkling down on the edge of the berth. "Well my work here is done. Keep an eye on him ok Syndrome? If there's anything else wrong call that number I gave you"_

_The sparkling smiled "Ok! Thank you Mr Medic sir!"_

_The blue and white medic laughed, exiting the living space. Syndrome watched the medic leave, then his attention shifted back to his friend. Firestorm smiled weakly as he felt the sparkling cuddle up into his side._

_"You scared me..."_

_"I-I'm sorry..."_

_"Don't do that again!" The sparkling pouted, tapping the older red mech on the shoulder. Firestorm laughed, placing an arm around the child. Syndrome giggled, his body colour changing back to its normal dark grey._

_The two sat in silence for a little while. Syndrome sighed happily, curling up next to his friend. The red mech was warm again, heat pumping through his circuitry like petrol to an engine. Firestorm smiled, staring up at the ceiling as the soreness slowly subsided. His systems slowly rebooted, the circuitry which had been backfiring joining it. Sighing, the red mech looked down at the sparkling and smiled. He'd fallen asleep, probably exhausted from his little adventure of the day._

_Sitting up, Firestorm carefully pried the little one from his side, settling him down on the berth as he walked out of the room and to his office._

_After all, he still had work to do._

* * *

"You saved my life that day"

"I... did?"

"Yep"

Syndrome smiled weakly, crying out slightly when Skartplug edged the piece of metal out further. The dark medic bit his bottom lip, eyeing up the damage the chunk of debris had done to the saboteur's circuits. It wasn't good. Wiring was snapped, energon had spilled everywhere and his spark chamber had been completely shattered. Looking up at the two mechs standing above him, he nodded. The two nodded back.

"Brace yourself Syndrome. This is gonna hurt"

"Like it di-dn't already Skarts..."

"Smartaft. Alright. Napalm, Cannonball, one sharp tug."

The two nodded, gripping the metal. Firestorm took his friends hand, smiling weakly as he tried to stay positive. Syndrome gripped it, looking back, pain surrounding his only working optic.

"Alright on three. One, Two, Three"

Syndrome screamed, squeezing the red mechs hand tightly as the metal was forcefully removed. A large, gaping hole remained, his spark bright and visible at the bottom of it. Skartplug was immediately at work, closing off the leaking fuel lines and sparking wires. If he could get his spark stable, then Syndrome might live.

It wasn't that the medic was pessimistic about his work, it was just he doubted his own skills in a situation such as this. He'd never done much field work with the Decepticons. He was always the one left behind to protect the base, always left out of battle planning and defence strategies because he didn't have many skills or experience in the warzone.

Pushing his thoughts aside, the medic sighed with relief as the grey mechs spark still shone brightly, unscratched apart from a small dent from where the metal had hit. Syndrome was a fighter. He knew that. He'd been through many scrapes, some fatal, such as now, and always come out on top. He'd been in dire situations, on the verge of death, and still he managed to make it out with a smile on his face.

"Alright. He should be ok to move. Let's get him back to headquarters."

Skartplug didn't doubt Syndrome. He didn't doubt any of his comrades. Syndrome was strong. He would live.

Skartplug didn't doubt his friends, he doubted luck and hope.

He just hoped Syndromes luck hadn't run out.


End file.
